


great romances of the 21st century

by ewidentnie



Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, Toronto Blue Jays, the spirit of voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-07-31 14:00:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20116243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ewidentnie/pseuds/ewidentnie
Summary: It’s a complete coincidence that Danny notices, the first time.There’s nothing to give away what Luke’s just done - his mouth is a little red, maybe, but Danny’s looking for it. Shouldn’t be looking for it; it’s none of his business anyway.He looks away, and takes another drink.





	great romances of the 21st century

**Author's Note:**

> i have never proofread anything in my entire life and i'm not about to start now

1\. It’s a complete coincidence that Danny notices, the first time.

They’re in the Midwest somewhere - some city, some day of the week; you lose track of things in July and the muggy heat. A few of them have gone to some bar to celebrate a win and they’ve settled in to a booth in the corner; just the younger guys without wives and kids to go home to. The music’s low enough that they can all keep a conversation going, fuelled by beer and bar food and the stupid dish of bar nuts that’s been placed at their table too.

“Gonna go get another drink,” Luke says, eventually, making his way through the tangle of legs. “Anyone else want anything?”

“I’m good,” Danny says, “thanks though.” The rest of the guys echo him and Luke just laughs before going off to the bar.

He gets swept back up in the conversation of the table - the west divisions are both hot right now - and it’s more than a few minutes before he notices Luke’s not back.

He looks over at the bar - it doesn’t look crowded or anything, so he’s not really sure what the hold-up is - but then he spots Luke. Leaning up against the bar, talking to some guy next to him. Not anyone Danny recognizes, and he’s pretty sure Luke would’ve said something if he was gonna go chat with a friend, but Luke’s talking to the guy with an open, easy smile, one Danny doesn’t see often. Sometimes during batting practice; rarer still in the dugout. He’s usually so focussed. Danny can’t stop staring.

The guy leans in now, a hand on the bar to balance him, almost boxing Luke in. Not that he seems to mind. He says something in Luke’s ear - there’s no way Danny can hear it from here but it’s obvious, just looking at the two of them, what it is.

Luke barely spares a glance back at the booth before he’s nodding and the two of them are heading towards the direction of the bathrooms. Danny’s not stupid; he can put two and two together. He looks away, takes another drink from his own beer, and tries to focus back in the conversation here at the table.

It’s maybe twenty, twenty-five minutes before Luke’s back, a new drink in his hand like he didn’t just sneak off to hook up with a stranger in the bathroom.

“Took you a while,” Danny says, trying to gauge Luke’s reaction.

He waves it off. “Couldn’t get the bartender’s attention,” Luke says, sliding back into the booth next to Danny. There’s nothing to give away what Luke’s just done - his mouth is a little red, maybe, but Danny’s looking for it. Shouldn’t be looking for it; it’s none of his business anyway.

He looks away, and takes another drink.

2\. The second time Danny sees it happen they’re back on the East coast, some bar with slightly sticky floors and dim enough lighting that the guys feel comfortable enough to relax.

Enough for Luke to feel comfortable enough to pick up, too, apparently.

The bathroom’s one of those that only has stalls, and just two of them at that. Danny’s in the far one when the bathroom door crashes open, two voices coming through.

One of them’s Luke’s; Danny recognizes his laugh. The other is one Danny’s never heard in his life. Another stranger.

“Fuck, there’s someone else here,” Luke says, the hint of a laugh still underneath his whisper.

“We’ll just have to be quiet, then,” the other guy says. The door of the other stall opens, closes; Danny hears the lock slide shut.

What Danny should be doing is getting the fuck out of this bathroom before anything starts actually happening. What he’s actually doing is holding his breath, listening to the sound of a zipper being pulled down, fabric being moved out of the way; the wet sound of a mouth on a cock.

The music outside is loud enough that Danny can still hear strains of it in the bathroom, but most of it the bass thumping through the floor and it’s low enough that he can hear the voice from the stall next to him. “Shit, man, your _mouth_,” somehow cutting through over the slurp that comes right before it. Not the voice Danny recognizes. Luke must be on his knees.

He can feel his face grow hot; he can’t be here for this, in this tiny bathroom stall while his teammate is sucking someone off on the other side of the flimsy metal wall. He reaches for the lock, trying to get out of there before it goes any further - as if this isn’t far enough - but the way it rattles as Danny slides it open is enough to catch the attention of the other two.

“Fuck,” the guy says, “shh, gotta be quiet,” and the slick sounds stop, temporarily. Danny gets the fuck out of there as quickly as he can before they start up again, letting the bathroom door slam shut behind him.

When he gets back to the rest of the guys he settles up his tab, making his excuses to leave and calls a cab to take him back to the team hotel and doesn’t think about what he’d overheard until he’s back in his own hotel room and then he’s shoving a hand down the front of his jeans, imagining how the other guy must’ve slid his cock down Luke’s throat to keep him quiet, maybe even placing a hand on his jaw to keep him still, and comes harder than he has in months.

3\. Danny’s looking for it, the next time it happens, keeping an eye out at the bars they hit up on road trips in the sticky days of August. Luke doesn’t always hook up when they go out - sometimes he’s content to just sit with the rest of the team and laugh at Eric’s stories, Joe’s dumb jokes - but when he finally does pick up again Danny’s watching for it.

Another nondescript guy, this time - dark hair, features that wouldn’t stand out in a crowd. But maybe that’s the point, this endless line of guys whose faces Luke will never remember. Maybe he likes the anonymity, the knowledge he’ll never see them again, but Danny doesn’t get it.

This time, when Luke sneaks off to the bar bathroom again, Danny gives it five minutes before he heads there too. The rest of the guys at the table don’t say anything, too caught up in some debate about the finale of Game of Thrones or whatever, and he’s pretty sure most of them didn’t even notice he’d left. He’s not insulted. It’s great for Danny’s purposes.

He pushes the bathroom door open quietly, this time, slow enough that the hinges don’t squeak and that the occupants inside one of the stalls don’t hear him come in. Just as quiet as he gets inside the unused stall, turning the lock gently so it doesn’t make any noise. The other two don’t notice.

The guy on his knees lets out a soft moan that gets cut off with a wet sound - it must be Luke, again; voice the same timbre and pitch before it got muffled by a cock thrusting in his mouth. Danny listens, ear pressed to the partition between the stalls, breathing as quietly as he can as Luke sucks the other guy off. This one isn’t a talker - just grunts and the occasional moan - and Danny thinks about what he’d say to fill the silence, if it were him in that position. Something about all the practice Luke’s gotten, maybe; about how it’s wasted on all these guys who don’t know who he is and can’t appreciate it.

He palms his dick where it’s hard in his jeans, bites down on the sleeve of his shirt as the other guy comes and they clean up and leave the bathroom, breathless and laughing, Luke’s voice a little rough, and then jerks off into the toilet, full of an emotion that he only recognizes as jealousy once he leaves.

He gets back to their booth after cleaning up, washing his hands and splashing water on his face to bring the flush down. Gives himself enough time to pull himself together, but he doesn’t take into account the fact that he still has to look at Luke when he gets back. Look at the angles of his face, pretend like he doesn’t know what he was just up to; pretend that he doesn’t want it for himself.

4\. Danny has a plan, the fourth time. Light on the details, maybe, but that leaves room for improvisation.

Luke’s not consistent, with how he picks up; there’s no pattern that Danny’s noticed so far. It means he’s gotta be more observant, whenever they go out, but there’s plenty of games in the season and plenty of warm summer nights; plenty of time. He’s a catcher. He can be patient.

In the meantime, he watches Luke. Gets familiar with the high sweep of his cheekbones, his laugh, the way his throat bobs as he takes a drink; the way his hands move as he tells a story at the table.

He gets his chance a week later. West coast, close enough to the ocean that the nights get chilly in a way they don’t back in Toronto. Luke excuses himself from the table - says he’s going to get another drink, and nobody questions him - and Danny knows how Luke works, by now.

He waits a few minutes before getting up himself, discreet enough that nobody really notices him go, and heads to the bar himself.

Luke’s already there, talking to some guy. Tall, dark hair; Luke’s usual type as far as Danny can tell. Luke’s leaning in like he’s interested; the guy keeps sliding his hand closer and closer across the bar.

It’s when the guy moves in that Danny moves as well, coming up from behind Luke to wrap an arm around his waist, low enough that it’s distinct from the way he’ll do it on the field. “He’s with me,” Danny says, before anyone else can say anything. The guy raises an eyebrow and-- just leaves; clearly this isn’t worth the effort to him to argue.

“What the _hell_ are you doing,” Luke says, pulling away from Danny’s arm. Not angry, not just yet, but his voice is tight, like he’s talking about a bad call out of the zone.

“Don’t like seeing you go off with all those other guys,” Danny says, setting it out in the open; letting Luke brush his hand away.

Luke’s expression shifts, so quick that Danny would’ve missed it if he wasn’t looking, before he closes off. “Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Luke says, pale underneath the summer baseball tan.

“I don’t care about it being dudes,” Danny says; Luke’s shoulders relax, just the tiniest bit. “I just don’t like it being people I don’t _know_,” as if that’s enough to convey what he means.

Luke’s brows furrow, just the tiniest bit. “Sometimes I got no clue what you’re on about, Jansen,” he says, but the tone of his voice is light enough that Danny can tell he’s not mad. Just confused. Danny can work with confused.

“I’ll buy you a drink,” he says, instead of explaining. “To make up for it.”

The look Luke gives him is calculating, but he still sits at the bar, shoulder knocking against Danny’s, and stays there for the rest of the night.

5\. The fifth time is when Danny says fuck it and finally decides to take things into his own hands. Back in the Northeast, this time; close enough to home for the territory to feel familiar, the air dense and sticky at night the same way it gets in Toronto.

It’s just the two of them at a booth; everyone else off by the bar or on the dance floor by now. They’re both still on their first drinks, a tension between them like a rubber band stretched to its breaking point, but one that’s keeping them in close proximity, like either of them can’t let the other out of their sight.

“The other day,” Luke says, “what you said.”

There’s been a lot of other days. Danny’s said a lot of things. He still knows what Luke means. “That I don’t like seeing you go off with other guys?”

“Yeah, that,” Luke says, picking at the label on his beer so he doesn’t have to look at Danny. “What did you mean?”

Danny shrugs, trying to keep it casual. “Meant what I said,” he says. “Just don’t like knowing that you’re doing that kind of stuff with guys we don’t know.”

“Would you care if it was guys we did know?” Luke asks, like he’s testing the waters.

Danny thinks about it and-- shudders. “Yeah,” he says completely truthful. “I would.”

Luke looks at him at that, searching for something in his expression. “Do you want me to stop?” As if Danny has any say in what Luke does. Maybe it’s a test, but Danny isn’t sure what he needs to do to pass it, but if he’s put that much out there then he might as well go the whole way.

“It’s just, it doesn’t seem right. You hooking up with all those other guys when you’re— mine. My backup catcher.”

Luke’s eyes narrow, but he doesn’t seem angry. “What are you getting at? Just say it, Jansen.”

Well, if he’s asking. “Come home with me,” Danny says. “If it doesn’t matter to you whose cock you’re sucking, then— come home with me.”

Luke tilts his head. Considers. “Alright,” he says, lashes lowering. “Take me home, Danny.”

It feels significant, that Luke’s going home with Danny instead of just taking him to the bathroom like he has every other time. Maybe it’s just Danny tricking himself into thinking this means anything more than Luke’s usual thing, but he can’t help but take it as a good sign.

They call a cab back to the hotel, the two of them sitting in the backseat; Luke making small talk with the driver. Danny can’t look at him for fear of what he might give away if he does, here in public.

Luke’s come over to Danny’s place before, but it’s always been strictly business - nothing with the same intentions behind it that they have now. Luke waits expectantly, toeing his shoes off as Danny locks the door to his apartment.

“So,” Danny says, “how do you wanna do...this?”

Luke just laughs at him, at his awkwardness. “C’mere,” he says, pulling Danny in by the wrist, hands settling at his waist. They’re the same height, but Danny’s still in his shoes so Luke has to tilt his head up just the tiniest bit to kiss him. It’s surprisingly tender - Danny has to wonder if Luke kisses all the boys he blows like this, or if Danny’s just the exception; and then he figures he should just stop thinking about it at all.

“You want me to blow you?” Luke asks when he pulls away. The question almost trips him up; the implication that maybe something else could be on the table, but Danny stays firm. Luke’s mouth is what started this, after all.

“Yeah,” Danny says, mouth going dry, “that-- that’d be hot.”

Luke just smiles, like he knows what’s going through Danny’s mind. “Here?” he asks. Danny shakes his head; the front entrance to his apartment isn’t really his idea of a great place to get head. Luke follows him to his bedroom; he takes a moment to thank his past self for clearing the place up marginally the day before.

“Sit,” Luke says, gesturing towards the edge of the bed. He doesn’t poke around at the pictures on the nightstand, the baseball mementos on the walls. Danny doesn’t know if it’s a sign that Luke doesn’t care to get him personally, or if he already knows Danny well enough that he doesn’t feel the need to get to know him that way. Instead, he just sinks down between Danny’s knees, ungraceful; almost awkward.

“Smooth,” Danny says, just teasing, trying to break up the tension. Even if he is the only one that feels it.

“You’re not the one who caught today,” Luke sniffs, but he’s already leaning in, placing one hand on Danny’s knee to steady himself. He shoots a glance up at Danny; Luke knows exactly what he looks like, Danny can tell.

Danny’s not prepared for what comes next: Luke nosing at the bulge in his jeans before sliding up to undo the button with his mouth, and then teeth pulling down the zipper, slow and deliberate. It’s one of the hottest things Danny’s seen in his life.

“Neat trick,” Danny says. He thinks he manages not to sound too affected, but Luke just smiles and he knows he didn’t.

“Picked it up along the way,” he says, fingers reaching in through the slit in Danny’s boxer briefs to draw out his cock. He’s already chubbing up, just from Luke’s attention on him; Luke makes an appreciative sound as Danny’s cock thickens in his hand.

“You gonna suck it?” Danny asks. Tries for ‘impatient’ and not ‘eager’, but fails. Luke just grins, fingers wrapping around the base before leaning in to take the head into his mouth, tongue curling under the head. Danny groans, hips jerking up but Luke doesn’t even gag as another inch of his cock slides in. Danny can’t help it, reaching up to place a hand at Luke’s jaw; he reasons that it’s keeping him from doing something even more stupid like tangling his hand in Luke’s short hair.

“Your mouth,” Danny says, a note of awe underlining his voice, “your fucking _mouth_.” It’s just as good as Danny had imagined it being. All the shit he thought about while jerking off by himself - alone in his bedroom, in the stall after Luke had left - starts spilling out. “You practice this?” he asks, fingers trailing up to trace his cheekbone. “How much time have you spent sucking dick, anyway?” The only answer Luke gives - can give - is a muffled groan, but he’s still so into it, the fingers of one hand digging into Danny’s thigh like he can hold him in place so Luke can get his fill that way.

And then Luke pulls off, gasping; at first Danny thinks he’s done something wrong before Luke’s scrabbling to move Danny’s hand, the one on his cheek. “Pull my hair,” he says, voice rough, “I’ll like it,” before his mouth is back on Danny’s dick, swallowing it down. Not like Danny’s gonna say no, not when Luke asked like _that_. He slides his fingers into Luke’s hair, like Luke asked him to, like he wanted to, and tugs. Luke groans, and doubles down on trying to suck Danny’s brains out through his cock.

It’s not much longer before he’s on the edge of coming, like some fucking teenager getting their first ever head. The polite thing would be to warn Luke, so he can back off in time. Fuck polite; Danny just tightens his grip in Luke’s hair and tugs him a little further onto his cock. Luke could pull off if he wanted to; Danny thinks it means something that he doesn’t, and then he’s not thinking at all as he comes down Luke’s throat.

Luke hasn’t moved when Danny comes back to himself, his forehead pressed into the side of Danny’s thigh. He’s hard; Danny can tell when he looks down. _I did this,_ Danny thinks; he’s responsible.

“Come here,” Danny says, even as he’s already sliding off the bed to settle on the floor. He kisses Luke, slow and careful, Luke’s mouth soft against his, as he undoes Luke’s flies and reaches a hand in, wrapping his fingers around Luke’s cock. He almost feels silly, kneeling on his floor with his softening dick out, but the sounds Luke’s making are enough to compensate, and Luke comes over his hand while Danny’s wondering if he’s the only one who’s ever done this with Luke, something curling in his gut.

Luke slumps, resting his forehead on Danny’s shoulder; Danny tries to discreetly wipe his hand off and probably fails.

“I should go,” Luke says. He sounds like he could be convinced otherwise. This whole situation is ridiculous: he’s sitting on the floor with his co-catcher and his dick is still out. There’s still nowhere else he’d be right now.

“Just stay,” Danny says, hoping his voice doesn’t give him away. Luke huffs a laugh into Danny’s collarbone, but he isn’t leaving. Danny takes that as a good sign.

“Why the fuck not,” Luke says, sounding just as giddy as Danny feels. “Yeah, sure. I’ll stay.”

Luke staying means he has to get off the floor, get out of his clothes and get them both through the rituals of brushing their teeth and getting into bed, but it also means that he gets to curl up against Luke, run a hand over his side and not have to pretend that he isn’t looking.

“I think we should do this again,” Danny says. “Like, at least three more times. I’ll blow you too, if you want.”

Luke just laughs. “Go to sleep, Jansen,” he says, sounding amused, but it’s not a no, and Luke isn’t turning away. Danny falls asleep like that, with the twin feelings of success and hope in his chest.

He wakes up early the next morning, mouth dry the way it gets when he’s been drinking the night before. Next to him, Luke’s still fast asleep, sprawled across the other side of the bed; the morning light shining across the broad expanse of his smooth back. This is probably the longest Luke’s ever spent with another guy, Danny thinks, possessive.

He could get up and get some water; could check his phone to see what he missed last night after leaving early. Instead he just rolls over, closing his eyes against the faint morning sun, and slings an arm across Luke’s waist.

He’s got his chance, now.

**Author's Note:**

> yeah idk i had a vague dream about danny being possessive and it turned into...this. title is (slightly changed) from a taking back sunday song.
> 
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